Miracles Aren't Always Free
by Pixie-Stories
Summary: Six weeks after the end of Fair Winds and Following Seas General Cresswell offers Harm and Mac a miracle. But is the price too high?


**Prompt:** From _Casablanca_ submitted by USMGrad: _Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world …She walks into mine_.

**Disclaimer:** JAG belongs to CBS and Bellisarius Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note:** This story was written for the _Reel It In_ ficathon on the VOY message boards. My deepest thanks go out to the anonymous helper who did so much to make this story better. You know who you are.

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**Chapter 1**

********************

Backed by darkness, the windows reflected Mac's image as she crossed her office and pulled open the door. The deserted bullpen beyond still echoed with the ghosts of the day's conversations, and Mac hurried through it, ignoring to the sharp taps of her heels against the tile floor. The break room was dark, the coffee pot cleaned and prepped for the next day, but a quick search of the fridge turned up a single can of soda at the back of the bottom shelf. Trying not to think about how long it'd been there she popped the top and took a long swallow. Half a step short of flat. No matter. It was the caffeine she was after, not the carbonation.

She leaned against the counter and let her thoughts drift, unsurprised when they turned to Harm. He'd be asleep now. She pictured him sprawled face down across a bed that was probably a good six inches too short for his frame. In her mind's eye, she added a tangled sheet, the careless positioning of lean, muscled arms and long legs, and a pair of dark blue boxers. The resulting scene, painted in vivid detail by her overactive imagination, made heat curl in her stomach. She blew out a breath and threw her head back, her hand tightening around the soda can. _Get a grip, MacKenzie_.

But as she dropped the empty can in the recycling bin and moved out of the darkened room she couldn't quite shake the mental image, a fact which only served to make her utter a low, heartfelt curse at the empty bullpen that was at once just like the one back at JAG and strangely alien.

_I love you, Mac. _

His voice was always there--in her ear, in her mind, in her heart … He was thousands of miles away, but she could still hear him. And it was slowly driving her mad.

What the hell was wrong with her? She'd never been the kind of woman who mooned over men. She was practical and realistic--a strong, independent woman with a pragmatic, if slightly cynical, outlook on life. These were traits she prided in herself, traits she'd nurtured for years.

Traits that apparently set out for greener pastures the instant Harm proposed to her.

She missed him. _Really_ missed him. It wasn't a feeling she was used to, and it sure as hell wasn't one she liked, but there didn't seem to be anything she could do about it. He was there in her head during the day, his thoughts and opinions voicing themselves with disconcerting frequency as she juggled cases, staffing, and the myriad other details that ruled her life. And at night he haunted her dreams, so that she woke in the mornings with the sheets in knots and a dull, needy ache riding low in her stomach.

Back in her office, she sank into her chair and turned to glare at her reflection, remembering the night she and Harm had deeded their future to a flash of gold and the fickle hand of fate.

To his credit, Harm had accepted his loss gracefully, pointing out that he'd have more time to spend with Mattie and that, in the grand scheme of life, family was more important than career. And yet …

And yet.

She twisted back to her desk and reached for the top file in her inbox. This was what she wanted, she told herself sternly, what she'd fought for like a mother bear defending her cub.

So why did it feel like an empty victory?

Pen in hand, she stared down at the open folder … and slid right past the text and into memories. His cocky smile. The brash courtroom confidence that had been tempered over the years to calm self-assurance. His pursuit of justice, even when it lived just beyond the black and white boundaries of the law.

Would he still be the same man when he left all that behind? Or would something precious and vital be lost in the transition? Could he give up the military without giving up himself?

_Damn it_. This endless questioning was pointless. The decision was made. It was too late to go back to the fork in the road and outline a new strategy, so Mac forced her attention back to the open file in front of her.

She'd just begun to untangle a thorny evidentiary argument when her telephone rang. Marking her place with one finger, she reached for the phone with her other hand.

"MacKenzie."

"Colonel MacKenzie. How's San Diego?"

Mac's head came up at the sound of the familiar voice. "General Cresswell. It's good to hear from you." Did the man _ever_ sleep?

"Rumor has it they're working you pretty hard out there," he said.

"I don't mind, sir. I'm enjoying the challenge." Besides, theoretically speaking, the busier she was the less time she had to miss Harm. Theoretically.

"Good to hear." There was a brief pause during which Mac heard a rustle of papers. Then, "Listen, I know it's late but something's just come up that I think you might be interested in."

"Sir?" Intrigued, Mac leaned back in her chair.

**********

One didn't turn down an invitation to the Royal Navy Ball, so Harm cut short his nightly visit with Mattie at the rehab center, donned his mess dress uniform, and presented himself at the posh hotel at precisely nineteen hundred hours. Now he moved through the crowded ballroom, an untouched glass of champagne in his hand and a polite smile on his face.

The cavernous room was a study in European elegance. Massive chandeliers hung from a frescoed ceiling. Heavy velvet curtains bracketed wide French doors and provided a tasteful contrast to the upholstered chairs scattered along the walls. And on a low dais at the far end a small string orchestra provided ambience and an excuse to dance. At any other time, Harm might've enjoyed the pomp and circumstance, but tonight he'd much rather be playing chess with Mattie at the center, or chatting with Mac on the telephone about the trials and tribulations of their respective billets.

Mac. He missed her even more than he'd expected to. Her absence was a dull ache in his chest that never quite disappeared, even in his busiest moments. He wanted her by his side, her hand tucked into the crook of his arm, her shoulder brushing companionably against his. He wanted to touch her, talk with her, see her eyes flash with righteous anger or warm with the heat of passion. He sighed. Telephone and email were poor substitutes for the real thing.

When the coin toss had come down against him he'd been disappointed, but he'd hidden his reaction from Mac, determined to do whatever he had to to make their marriage work. Besides, giving up his commission would keep them all stateside, which would be better for Mattie. But he couldn't deny that he'd miss the Navy, or that he was having trouble imagining what his life was going to be like once the slow wheels of military bureaucracy finally kicked him loose for the last time.

He let his gaze surf the crowd, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of the future. He'd just decided to step outside for a breath of fresh air when something made him pause. Eyes narrowed, he scanned back the other way, breaking down the shifting patterns of light and color to isolate individuals. There. Just inside the grand archway. Was that …? The woman was partially hidden by the couple she was talking to, but the tilt of her head and the way she carried her shoulders were distinctly familiar.

"Mac?" His startled exclamation drew curious stares from a trio of naval officers standing nearby. He offered a distracted apology and excused himself, making his way toward the place where he'd seen the woman last. As he maneuvered through the human obstacle course he told himself his eyes were playing tricks on him. Chances were he'd reach the other end of the ballroom only to find a stranger who would offer him a polite if somewhat puzzled smile. He was so certain of it that an apology was already taking shape in his mind when the crowd shifted.

Stunned, he could only stare.

_Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world …She walks into mine_.

He shook his head. His eyes hadn't been playing tricks on him after all. She was really here. In London. Six thousand miles from home. His heart thundered in his chest and he broke into a wide smile. Why hadn't she told him she was coming?

She hadn't seen him yet, so he took a moment to drink her in--the sweep of her dark hair, the curve of her warm smile, the slope of her slim shoulders. She was standing at an angle to him, her eyes searching the crowd, and when she reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear the diamond ring on her finger flashed with fire.

He knew the instant she saw him. Awareness flashed between them, its impact almost physical as her gaze locked on his. Without looking away she murmured something to her companions and started forward, moving with a natural grace that made his breath snag in his throat. As he watched her approach, the sights and sounds of the party faded away until there was nothing but Mac, nothing but the need to be closer to her, to hold her in his arms and feel her slim body pressed against his. But they were surrounded by people and confined by protocol, so when she finally glided to a stop in front of him he contented himself with brushing the backs of his fingers against her cheek.

"Mac …" He searched her eyes. "How …?"

"Later." Her low voice carried an edge of longing that made him want to sweep her into his arms and carry her off someplace where they wouldn't be disturbed for at least a month. She rested one hand against his chest, and though she glanced around the room, her smile was meant for him alone. "Dance with me."

In lieu of sweeping her into an exuberant hug, he caught her fingers and lifted them to his lips. "Gladly."

He led her to the dance floor, turned, and breathed out a sigh when she moved into his arms. He wanted to bury his face in her neck and brush his lips over the curve of her shoulder, and not being able to do either one was a kind of exquisite torture.

"So Cinderella," he murmured, his hand settling against the dark green satin at the small of her back, "what brings you to the ball?"

She leaned back in his arms and looked up at him with laughter in her eyes. "Somebody told me there was a handsome prince here who'd sweep me off my feet and carry me away to his castle."

Harm made a show of looking around the crowded room. "I don't know, Mac. I don't see anybody who fits that description. Maybe you'd better double check your source."

Her gaze sharpened. Warmed. "Oh, he's here."

"I see." God, if she'd ever looked at him like that in the court room … He forced the dangerous thought away and pretended to mull over her words. "As I recall, Cinderella ran away at the stroke of midnight."

"I'm not going anywhere until Wednesday, but if I miss my flight back I'm pretty sure my coach and six is going to turn into a pumpkin full of rabid mice."

Wednesday. That gave them the weekend plus a couple of days on the other side. "This man you're looking for. Is he the only reason you're here?"

Her gaze lingered on his mouth. "Oh, I don't know. I thought I might take in some of the sights while I'm in town." She gave him a flirtatious grin that made Harm desperate to kiss her. Knowing he couldn't, he drew her closer, earning a scandalized glare from the grand dame who was dancing past them in stately dignity. Harm shot the gray-haired matron a wink before returning his attention to Mac.

"Surely you don't expect me to believe that you flew all this way just for the Royal Navy Ball…"

"And to see you," she reminded him.

He acknowledged that with a nod. "And to see me."

"You're right. There is another reason." She glanced at him from beneath lowered lashes. "But it'll wait."

In truth, he didn't really care why she was here. It was enough that she was. And he had no interest in sharing her with several hundred strangers.

"Maybe _it_ can wait." He risked a quick kiss behind her ear and felt a shiver run through her body. "But I don't know if _I_ can."

"I only just got here, Harm. Shouldn't we at least say hello to a few people?"

"Probably." But just now he didn't much care if he stepped on a few diplomatic toes on the way to getting Mac alone somewhere.

She must've read his intentions in his face, because she tilted her head and pasted on a fairly credible look of disappointment. "You mean I got all dressed up for nothing?"

He held her away from him and indulged in a slow, appreciative perusal of her body that had her pulse leaping in her throat and her eyes darkening with awareness. Satisfied, he drew her back into his arms.

"Oh, I wouldn't say it was for nothing." He cast a warning look at a nearby captain with a lascivious gleam in his eyes and swung Mac into a turn that took them in the opposite direction.

"If that's so …" She slid her hand down his chest and toyed idly with one of the buttons on his shirt. "Why are we still dancing?"

"As I recall, it was your idea."

"Was it?" She gave him a look of wide-eyed innocence. "I don't remember."

Instead of answering he took her hand and led her from the dance floor. They'd debate the details later.

*******************

She could've walked to Harm's flat faster than the damned cab was getting them there. A quick sideways glance told her Harm was just as impatient as she was, but neither his faint commiserating smile nor the light brush of his thumb across her knuckles did much to cool the fire that made her shift restlessly on the worn vinyl seat. She swallowed hard and tore her gaze away to focus on the passing scenery. When his fingers tightened around hers she squeezed back but didn't look around.

The car finally pulled to the curb, and Mac climbed out without waiting for Harm to pay the fare. She heard him tell the cabbie to keep the change, and then he was guiding her up half-a-dozen neatly swept stone steps. While he fumbled for the key, she slipped her hand under his jacket and toyed with the catch on his cummerbund, remembering the last time she'd helped him out of this uniform.

The door swung open on silent hinges, and Harm pulled her inside. There was barely time to register the faint scent of fresh herbs before his lips found hers in the darkness. Instantly the hunger she'd suppressed so ruthlessly for the last six weeks came rushing to the surface, and the kiss took on a fierce intensity that would've surprised Mac if she'd stopped to think about it. But there was no room for thought, only for the strength of his arms as he held her against him, the breadth of his shoulders as her palms raced across them, the softness of his hair as it slipped between her fingers.

A wordless plea rose in the back of her throat, and he lifted his head to look down at her with eyes that glittered in the darkness.

"God, I missed you," he said.

"I know." She forced the words past a throat thick with need. "I missed you, too."

His hands skimmed up her back and across her shoulders, then caught the zipper of her dress on the way back down. A moment later the gown fell to the floor and Mac kicked it aside. The rest of their clothing soon followed, marking a path to the bedroom that was interrupted by heated kisses, whispered promises, and once, a low curse when Harm banged his knee against a coffee table.

They fell to the bed. Breathless. Greedy. The rush to touch and be touched consumed them with the raging intensity of a Kuwaiti oil fire, so when Harm caught her hands, pinned her wrists over her head, and paused, Mac rose against him in seething frustration. She opened her eyes and found him watching her. The intensity of his gaze made her breath catch in her throat.

"I love you, Mac."

Oh, God. Those words, in that voice ... She arched up again, her body calling to his.

"Show me."

********************

Mac had once told him that she didn't sleep much, and he'd seen that for himself on more than one occasion. So he took it as a point of honor when he woke before she did and discovered her snuggled up against him, her eyes closed, her breathing deep and even. For a while he contented himself with watching the play of morning sunlight over her skin, but soon the need to touch overcame his protective instincts and he trailed his fingers up her spine.

"Mmm," she purred, her voice husky with sleep, "that feels good."

Swamped by tenderness, he pressed a kiss against her temple. "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."

She smiled without opening her eyes. "I thought I was Cinderella."

"That was last night," he corrected softly. "This morning you're definitely Sleeping Beauty."

She yawned and stretched, her body pressing against his in a way that had him considering a take on the old fairy tale that the Brothers Grimm probably didn't intend. When she settled back against him one hand came to rest on his chest, her fingers trailing over his skin and leaving flash fires in their wake. Her eyes were open now. And amused.

"And who will I be this afternoon?"

"Hmm…" He bent to kiss her, pretending to give the question serious consideration. "Snow White?" Before she could answer, he shook his head. "No. I've never heard you whistle, and the wicked witch wouldn't stand a chance against my sharp-shooter Marine. Goldilocks maybe?" He lifted a few strands of her hair and examined them closely. "Nope. Wrong color. I know. How about …" He brushed the pad of his thumb across her cheek and smiled into her eyes. "Mine."

"Mmm… I like the sound of that."

"So do I." He rolled to his back and resettled her so that her head rested against his shoulder. "Did I mention how glad I am to see you?"

"Maybe once or twice."

Her wry tone made him tilt his head to look at her. "Can I help it if I missed you?"

"I missed you, too." She propped herself on one elbow and pressed her hand against his chest. "Who knew six weeks could feel like six months."

"You have a gift for understatement. Speaking of which …" He wrapped his hand around her arm, brushing his thumb back and forth across the soft skin. "You aren't AWOL are you?"

"Not that the idea hasn't occurred to me once or twice, but no. I'm not."

Suspicion curled in his stomach. The last time she'd done something this unexpected he'd wound up chasing her through a Paraguayan jungle. "This doesn't have anything to do with Webb, does it?"

"Not this time." She shook her head. "I had a call from General Cresswell."

"At JAG?" Puzzled, he lowered his hand to rest on top of hers. "Why?"

"Well …" She held his gaze, and in her eyes he saw a mixture of hope and trepidation. "He has a proposition for us."

********************

**Chapter 2**

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The rehab center Harm had found for Mattie was in a converted mansion, a lovely old place with broad sloping lawns, gingerbread trim, and a front porch that practically begged for cozy tea parties and long afternoons of quiet reading. Mac loved it on sight, and she told Harm so when he came around to open her door.

"It is beautiful, isn't it," he said, turning to look up at the windows that glinted with morning sun.

"How'd you find it?"

"My yeoman. Her father was posted in London when she was a teenager." He took her hand in his. "Ready?"

Mac looked up at the double front doors and took a deep breath. Mattie was the last question mark. Would she see how important this was for Harm? Or was she too young--and too caught up in her own problems--to understand. Catching Harm's curious look, she squeezed his hand and mustered a confident smile. "Ready."

Despite the building's outer appearance Mac had been expecting something hospital-like, so she was pleasantly surprised by the warm hominess of the place. The furniture looked worn, but in a way that seemed lived-in rather than meager. The walls were painted a soft shade of blue and decorated with artwork done, Mac assumed, by the residents. And there were plants everywhere--hanging in the windows, warming up the corners, and spilling over the edges of coffee tables. At the center of it all a large tabby cat reigned supreme, lifting her head only long enough to acknowledge Harm and Mac's entrance before returning to her nap in the sunshine.

The receptionist welcomed them with a bright smile for Harm and a look of unabashed curiosity for Mac.

"Mr. Rabb," she said, "you're a might early today. Mattie'll be so pleased."

Harm shook his head with a rueful smile. "Six weeks, Maisy, and I still can't get you to call me Harm."

"'Twouldn't be proper," Maisy said firmly, but her bright blue eyes twinkled as she said it, and Mac sensed the exchange was a familiar one. "I hear Mattie will be leaving us soon," Maisy went on. "We'll miss her around here. She's such a sweet child."

Sweet wasn't a word Mac would've chosen to describe Mattie. Spirited, maybe. Precocious, certainly. But sweet?

Harm put his arm around Mac's waist, and she leaned into his touch, pleasure flashing through her when his fingers tightened against her hip.

"Maisy," he said, "I'd like you to meet my fiance, Sarah MacKenzie." He turned to Mac. "Maisy's kind of like the resident Mary Poppins around here."

Maisy giggled girlishly, belying her gray hair and comfortable girth. "I'm no such thing."

Mac smiled. "Harm never lies." She extended her hand in greeting. "And he's rarely wrong. I'm pleased to meet you."

"Maisy--" Releasing Mac, Harm leaned against the reception desk, a serious look in his eyes. "I wonder if you could help us out with something."

********************

Mattie's room was empty, but the bed was made and the jumbled pile of textbooks on the night stand seemed to imply she'd done some studying. Harm glanced down at the math lesson that lay on top of the pile, checking over Mattie's work while Mac studied the small collection of photographs arranged on the dresser.

They heard Mattie's voice before they saw her. She was laughing, a sound that'd been all too rare since her accident. Moments later she rolled her chair around the corner and into the room, only to freeze in the doorway, her gaze sliding over Mac with a quickly shuttered look of surprise before coming to rest on Harm.

"Hi," she said, her voice laced with a faint edge of wariness. "You're early." She gave Mac a look of studied nonchalance. "Hi, Mac."

"Hello, Mattie." Mac smiled warmly and gestured at Mattie's wheelchair. "You drive that thing like a pro."

"Not for long." Mattie spun around, pushed the door closed, spun back. "I'll be switching to crutches for good in a few days. They're a pain in the ass, but at least people don't treat you like a leper."

"Language," Harm warned, but Mattie breezed on, ignoring him.

"James says I'm pushing too hard, but he's not the one trapped in this thing."

Harm caught the silent question in Mac's eyes. "Her physical therapist," he explained.

"Ahh." She turned back to Mattie. "At this rate you'll be back in the air in no time, huh?"

A shadow flitted through Mattie's eyes, but she nodded. "Better than that, I'll finally be able to blow this joint."

"Mattie …" Harm knew what was coming, and sure enough, Mattie rounded on him, her eyes blazing.

"I hate it here, Harm."

"So you've said." He crossed the room and crouched beside her chair. "Look, Mattie. We've been over this."

"Yeah, I know the drill. Best place for me, only way we can be together, blah, blah, blah …" She folded her arms across her chest, a mutinous look in her eyes. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Nobody's asking you to like it, but you know this was the only way I could bring you out here with me."

Mattie set her jaw and glared at him, and Harm stood up with a sigh. He knew her attitude came more from her feelings of helplessness than from any real animosity toward him, but that didn't make her anger any easier to take. Thinking it prudent to change the subject before she worked up a good head of steam, he gave her a bright smile.

"How would you like to come out with us for a couple of hours?"

Mattie blinked, the looming tirade temporarily derailed. "Now?"

"Sure, why not?"

Off-balance, Mattie looked from Harm to Mac and back again. "I don't know …"

"Come on," Mac urged. "It'll be fun. Haven't you always wanted to see the Tower of London?"

Sudden interest sparked in Mattie's eyes. "Isn't that the place where they beheaded Anne Boleyn?"

"Yup."

Mattie looked at Harm. "Can we?"

"It's already arranged." He moved to take the handles of the wheelchair. "And while we're out," he said, "there's something we need to talk about." He glanced over at Mac. "As a family."

********************

Harm stretched out his legs and relaxed while Mac and Mattie debated the relative merits of beheading versus the electric chair as methods of execution. The discussion was graphic, lively, and punctuated with laughter that might've seemed out of place to anybody who didn't understand how miraculous it was.

They'd spent the entire afternoon together, ending with dinner at a little out-of-the-way bistro where they lingered over ice cream in the gathering twilight. Mattie glowed with happiness and good health. The outing had done her good, and it had given her and Mac an opportunity to get to know each other better. As Harm watched the two of them he began to feel for the first time that they might actually make this thing work.

It was time to discuss the reason Mac had come all the way to London.

"Mattie," he said, taking advantage of a lull in the conversation, "there's something Mac and I need to talk to you about."

Mattie took a spoonful of ice cream and eyed him curiously. Under the table, Mac slid her hand into his. He squeezed her fingers lightly, grateful for the silent support.

"Remember when I told you I was going to give up my commission?"

"You said you had to if you and Mac wanted to get married." Mattie shrugged. "Yeah, I remember. So what? You're a great lawyer. You'll find another job."

If only it were that simple. "There might be another option."

Mattie put down her spoon. "What kind of option?"

"The kind that'd let me stay in the Navy."

Mattie leaned forward in her chair. "Would we be able to go back to Washington?"

Harm knew it was what she wanted most. Reluctantly, he shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

Her shoulders tensed, her eyes taking on the look of studied indifference he remembered from the first time they'd met. She was putting up walls, a skill she'd mastered entirely too successfully for her age.

"Where, then?"

Harm took a breath. It was easier to deliver the closing arguments in a murder trial than it was to find the right words for this. "There are a couple of things you should know before we get to that."

"Mattie," Mac spoke up, startling Harm. He'd been so focused on Mattie that he'd momentarily forgotten she was there. "The military won't approve co-location unless Harm and I are actually married. Being engaged isn't enough."

Mattie visibly relaxed. "Can't you just get married while you're here? Doesn't the Navy have chaplains or something?"

"Yes, they do," Mac said carefully. "And we can do that, if it's okay with you."

Mattie's shrug was eloquent in its simplicity. "Seems like the obvious solution."

"There's more, Mattie." Harm knew this was where the plan could fall apart. "It's … a little more complicated than just getting married."

"Complicated how?"

"The billets we're considering … Since I'm only your guardian, the Navy won't let you come with me."

The silence that met his words was deafening. Harm saw fear flicker through Mattie's eyes. "You'd go without me?"

"No." Harm shook his head. "I told you that right after your accident, remember? I said I wasn't going anywhere without you. That hasn't changed."

"I don't understand. If you aren't going without me, but I can't go as your ward …"

"You _could_ come with us … if you're willing to let Mac and I formally adopt you." He said it in a rush, wishing he could cushion the shock, knowing he couldn't. "Mattie … as far as I'm concerned, we're already a family. The only thing this would change is that the Navy would see us that way, too."

Before Mattie could react, Mac reached across the table to take her hand. "Mattie, I know this is kind of sudden, but I'd be honored to have you for a daughter."

Mattie snatched her hand away, her eyes filling with tears. She blinked them back furiously. "I already have a mother." She looked at Harm. "And a father."

"And we'd never presume to take their place," Harm said gently.

Mattie brushed that aside. "Where is it, anyway? Where do they want to send you that being my guardian isn't good enough?"

Harm looked at Mac, and at her slight nod, turned back to Mattie.

"Korea."

********************

Harm navigated London's busy streets with practiced ease, but he didn't say much, and Mac knew he was thinking about Mattie. Their meal at the bistro, begun in such high spirits, had ended in strained silence, and Mattie had asked to be taken back to the rehab center right after. She hadn't even let them walk her up to her room, insisting that she could find her way on her own.

Wishing she could smooth away the tension that stiffened Harm's shoulders and deepened the lines in his forehead, Mac laid her hand on his leg. Corded muscle flexed beneath her fingers.

"She'll come around, Harm."

He shook his head. "I don't know, Mac. She was pretty upset. I can't really blame her, either. Korea's a hell of a long way from Washington."

"Mattie's a bright girl. And she loves you. Give her some time."

"She's already been through so much. How can I ask her to do this, too?"

Mac considered that, remembering back to her own formative years. "Maybe it'd be good for her. A year or two away from everything … It might be just what she needs."

He gave her a sideways glance, then returned his attention to the road. "Red Rock Mesa all over again?"

"In a way, yes."

Harm swung neatly into the parking garage. He negotiated the narrow structure with ease, and Mac decided she was glad he was the one driving. She'd already seen enough of London traffic to be glad she wasn't going to have to deal with it on a daily basis.

"Look, there's nothing more we can do tonight," she said as he pulled into his assigned space. "Let's let her sleep on it, and we'll talk with her again in the morning. In the meantime--" she leaned over to give him a soft kiss. "I could use cup of tea and a long, hot bath."

Harm seemed to relax a little, his eyes warming with interest. He wrapped his fingers around hers where they rested on his thigh. "And then what?"

Mac eased her hand a little higher, and smiled in satisfaction when she heard his breath catch. "Oh, I imagine we'll be able to come up with some way to keep ourselves occupied until morning."

********************

Maisy knocked lightly on Mattie's door. At the muffled call, she turned the knob and went in. Mattie was sitting in her wheelchair by the window, her head turned toward the day that was just beginning on the other side of the glass. She glanced around at Maisy's entrance, her jaw set, her eyes dark with some turbulent emotion Maisy couldn't quite define. Maisy had been expecting something like this since her conversation with Mr. Rabb the previous day. Still, her heart ached to see Mattie so unhappy. She sighed and shook her head. Growing up was so very hard.

Right then. She'd promised she'd do what she could. Squaring her shoulders, she adopted her cheeriest voice and crossed the room to set down Mattie's breakfast tray.

"Good morning, Miss. And what a lovely morning it is, too."

Mattie turned her head back to the window. "If you say so."

"I've brought your favorite today. French toast."

"I'm not hungry."

"Ah. Well that'll never do, will it? You need to eat. You've got a pool session in an hour. You'll need your strength for that."

"I'm not going."

"Oh?" Maisy sat down in one of the guest chairs. "Whyever not, dear?"

"I just don't feel like it."

"But you've been doing so well."

The observation was met with stony silence, and Maisy decided to try another tack.

"Will you be going out again today? It's perfect weather for a stroll along the Thames."

"I doubt it."

The words were flat, uninflected, and clearly dismissive. Maisy ignored them.

"Ms. MacKenzie's a lovely woman, isn't she? Did the three of you have a nice time yesterday?" She busied herself making Mattie's bed, something she wasn't supposed to do, strictly speaking, but she'd never been one to mind the rules overmuch. While she worked, she kept up a steady stream of idle chatter, hoping to find a chink in Mattie's armour. When it came, it was from an unexpected quarter.

"Me mum used to say a day like this shouldn't be wasted," Maisy was saying as she slid open the window. "She'd shoo me out the door soon's the sun come up and tell me not to show me face again before dark."

"At least you have a mom," Mattie said, so quietly that Maisy almost missed it.

"Aye," she said softly. "And a da'. And they love me dearly." She moved across to sit down near Mattie, close enough so they could talk, but not so close as to crowd her. "But you've people who love you, too."

"My mother's dead, my dad's a drunk, Harm …" Mattie shook her head. "And I don't even know Mac. Not really."

"She seemed very nice to me," Maisy said. "They're to be married soon, aren't they? They do seem so very much in love." She remembered the way Mr. Rabb had looked at his fiance yesterday. There'd been such tenderness in those gorgeous eyes of his. "Wouldn't you like to get to know her better?"

Mattie shrugged. "Maybe, but …"

"But what, dear?" Maisy hoped Mattie wouldn't shut her out now. God knew, the poor dear needed somebody to talk to. She'd had such a hard time, and while Maisy didn't know all the details of Mattie's young life, she knew enough to want to help her.

"They want to adopt me."

Maisy had known about that, of course. When Mister Rabb had asked her to check in on Mattie today, he'd told her why. Still, it broke her heart to see Mattie so unhappy. "Would that be so bad?"

Until now, Mattie had kept her gaze trained on the tree outside her window, but at Maisy's words she turned. There was resentment in her eyes, but there was also a hint, just a hint, of something else, something Maisy hesitated to call hope.

"I already have a family."

"Most people do," Maisy said cheerfully. "The lucky ones, anyway. And just think. You could have _two_ families." She leaned closer, wishing she dared take Mattie's hand. "Mr. Rabb loves you very much, you know. He'd do anything for you."

"Except leave the Navy," Mattie said bitterly.

Ahh, thought Maisy. Now we're getting to the heart of the matter. "Oh?"

"They want to get married, adopt me, and move to Korea," Mattie said, the words spilling out all in a rush. "But I just want to go home."

Maisy wondered if Mattie knew how plaintive she sounded. Probably not. Mattie tried so hard to act like she was all grown up, but behind all that bravado, she was still a little girl.

"We all want to go back sometimes," Maisy said carefully, "but life doesn't work that way. You have to go forward."

"What if I don't want to?"

Maisy shrugged. "Well … then life goes on without you."

Mattie was quiet for a long minute. "He gave me a choice." Mattie plucked at the sleeve of her shirt. "He said we could go back to the states if I wanted to. He'd leave the Navy and we'd go to live in San Diego with Mac."

"Well there you go," Maisy said. "It's not Washington, but it's a lot closer to home than Korea."

"Yeah." But Mattie didn't sound happy.

"You don't want to go?"

"I don't know." Mattie reached for the paper napkin on her breakfast tray and began methodically shredding it. "He really loves the Navy."

"And?"

"And if there's a way he can stay in …" She trailed off, the napkin reduced to a pile of tiny flakes on the table. "Maybe I owe him that much." She scooped up the remains of the napkin and dumped them on her tray.

Satisfied that she'd at least opened a door, Maisy got to her feet. "Well dear, you think about it. I'm sure you'll make the right decision. In the meantime--" she picked up Mattie's orange juice and handed it to her. "--eat your breakfast."

********************

Harm and Mac were just finishing lunch when the telephone rang. Harm excused himself to answer it while Mac busied herself with the dirty dishes. They were both worried about Mattie, and though they'd tried to enjoy their time together, every minute had been shadowed by question marks.

She dumped the dishes in the sink and turned on the hot water, reaching for the dish soap while the sink began to fill.

Maybe she should've kept Cresswell's offer to herself. If she hadn't told Harm about it … No. That wasn't fair. Harm had to make up his own mind. He already knew how she felt. The IG spot would be every bit as challenging as what she was doing in San Diego, and if there was a way Harm could keep his commission …It just seemed like the perfect solution. Except for the part about being stationed in Korea.

_Please, Mattie. Don't ruin this chance for Harm._

When his hand landed on her shoulder she jumped. Lost in thought, she hadn't heard him come back into the room. She turned into his arms and he held her close for a long moment, his cheek resting against the top of her head.

"That was Mattie," he finally said quietly. "She wants to see us."

She pulled back, and his arms slid down to loop around her waist. "Did she say what she'd decided?"

"No," he said. "But Mac … I want you to know. If it doesn't look like she's going to be able to handle this, I'll resign my commission. I won't cause her any more heartache."

She sighed. "I know. I just hope …"

"Yeah." He nodded and pressed a kiss against her temple. "So do I."

********************

When they walked into the rehab center the tabby cat was lying in the same patch of sunshine she'd been in the day before. Once again, she favored them with a regal glare before returning to her nap. At the reception desk, Maisy was busy with some paperwork, but she looked up with a smile when she heard the door.

"Well hello," she said cheerfully. "I'm sorry I missed you when you came back last night. Did you have a nice time?"

"Yes, we did, thanks." Harm said. He lowered his voice. "How's Mattie?"

"She was pretty upset when I took in her breakfast tray," Maisy said. "But we had a nice chat, and I think she's doing better now."

Harm nodded. "Bless you, Maisy. I knew we could count on you."

"Aww," Maisy blushed. "It was no trouble at all. Like I said, Maisy's a sweet girl."

"She in her room?" Harm asked.

"As far as I know. She's just finished her pool session."

"Great." Harm took Mac's hand. "Then we'll head on up."

"Right." Maisy handed them their visitor passes. "Good luck."

"Thanks." Mac took the passes and handed one to Harm. "Harm was right," she said to Maisy. "You are a godsend."

********************

Mattie was waiting for them in her room. She'd changed out of her swim suit, but her hair was still wet. A chemistry textbook lay open on the table, pencil and notebook beside it. When Harm and Mac came in, she turned from the window, watching them in silence.

"Hey," Harm said. "How are you?"

She shrugged and set down her hairbrush.

"This means a lot to you, doesn't it," she said without preamble. "Korea."

"Yeah." Harm crossed to Mattie's side. "Yeah, it does." He knelt next to her chair. "But I meant what I said yesterday. If you don't want to go, we won't."

Mattie's eyes shifted to Mac. "What about you?" she asked. "What do you want?"

Mac joined Harm and Mattie by the window. "The way I see it," she said, "I win either way." She rested one hand on the arm of Mattie's wheelchair and took Harm's hand with the other. "All I want," she said quietly, "is a family. And whether I get that in San Diego, Korea, or--" she paused, thinking. "--or Keflavik--" She shrugged. "It's all the same to me. I just want you two to be happy."

Mattie considered that for a minute, then looked at Harm. "Do you think Dad would understand? The adoption, I mean."

Harm nodded. "Yeah. I think he would. He wants what's best for you, Mattie. And I think he knows that right now, he isn't it."

Mac held her breath, almost afraid to hope. San Diego would be easier. She'd be the first to admit that. But keeping his commission would make Harm happy, and for that she'd pay any price.

Abruptly, Mattie nodded her head, and the nervous tremble in her voice was barely noticeable when she spoke.

"I guess we're going to Korea."

********************

Mac tugged at the cream-colored linen jacket, adjusting its lay against the matching skirt. Beside her, Mattie leaned on her crutches. She held Mac's simple wildflower bouquet in her hands.

"Relax," she said. "It's only a wedding."

Mac snorted and smoothed her skirt, wishing she could quell the nervous tremble in her hands. She hadn't been this terrified since her first jury trial. "Easy for you to say."

"Come on, Mac." Mattie needled. "You two have had the longest courtship in the history of mankind. What could you possibly have to be nervous about?"

Mac cast a sideways glance at the young woman who would soon be her adopted daughter. "Motherhood," she said dryly.

Mattie rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right."

Before Mac could reply, Harm joined them, resplendent in his dress whites. When he stopped in front of her, Mac reached up to trace the familiar gold wings with the tip of her finger.

"I guess they were right after all," she murmured, smiling up at him.

"About?"

"Dress whites and gold wings."

Instead of answering, he kissed her, his hand pressing into the small of her back with a kind of casual possessiveness that made Mac's heart sing.

"Geez, you two. Don't you know anything? It isn't time for that yet." Mattie's exasperation was clear, but when Mac turned to look at her, she was grinning.

Harm reached out to tousle Mattie's hair, and she swatted his hand away with a mock glare, making him chuckle.

"What's the matter?" he asked. "Jealous?"

"Of you two?" She shook her head, but her eyes sparkled with laughter. "No way."

Just then the heavy oak doors of the small chapel opened and a young man stepped out. His uniform was pristine, black shoes polished to a high shine, insignia perfectly aligned, and Mac wondered if he wore gloves when he buttoned his jacket so as not to risk a wayward fingerprint.

"Captain Rabb?" With his short cap of red hair and startling green eyes, Chaplain McConnell looked more like a benign leprechaun than a member of the clergy. "Colonel MacKenzie?"

They nodded.

"Are you ready?"

Mac felt Harm's arm tighten around her waist, but it was Mattie who answered, her voice strong and sure.

"Yeah," she said, handing Mac the bouquet. "We're ready."


End file.
